Eight Doctor: Shadows of War
by GingerIsTheCat
Summary: Basically I wrote a lot of poetry today on a whim, and I thought that I should put it to good use. So I have no concrete idea of what the plot could be, but I just wrote this. All I know is that it takes place just before the Time War. Suggestions are very welcome. I've also posted the poetry on Tumblr.
Chapter 1: Shadowing War

Down goes the night

Into fiery hell

The wages of war

Only daylight will tell

The Eighth Doctor ran. He looked behind him and saw that his pursuers had vanished. Nothing good ever came of that. A feeling of impending doom descended upon him as he glanced wildly for an escape route, while knowing full well just how likely it was that he would see them racing down it just as soon. He ducked behind a dumpster and tucked himself fully behind it just as the menacing figures returned. They slid across the walls, as black as night, looking for him. He shuddered as he saw them pass along the wall overhead. Could they see him?

Chapter 2: Newspapers and Old Ink.

Lying to the mirror

To it's face

Lying on broken

Drawers full of of lace

The face of the clock

Did mock and decree

It's not from the mirror

But from time that I flee

As I stood at the door

The boards did solemnly plead

For my feet and my head

Once more to agree.

Janine Marlow sat at the edge of her bed, wondering how this had happened. As she prepared to leave for her bridge club at the local library, which met every Thursday at 5;;00 PM sharp, she'd had an epiphany; she was no longer as young as she had been, only what seemed like a few moments ago. What on hells wheels had happened? She looked into the mirror and saw the lines that crossed her face as she made subtle movements, experimenting with each facial muscle until she actually made herself laugh out loud. She then gave herself a stern look for the childish outburst. She certainly didn't feel old. Putting on her oval pearl earrings and fixing her largely greyed light brown hair, she mused that at least her wrinkles gave the impression of a good nature. She cringed as she thought of the misfortune of some she knew who permanently had a frown stamped on their face by years of both hard luck and bitter outlooks. Now where was her purse? Great, was she going senile too? She pursed her lips as she concentrated on remembering where she had last put it down, but the memory stubbornly eluded her. Like a hare in a marsh, she thought. The girls would be furious if she was late again. Last time they had simply started without her, leaving her to sit the first game out on the sidelines with Harold. Harold was a nice amiable man, but she found their relationship rather complicated and confusing.

Half the time he had her laughing in desperately muffled stitches as he pointed out the various types of birds that her fellow bridge players hats resembled, and the other half she just found him irritating. To tell the truth, she couldn't stand most of them. Really, the only reason she ever went was if she had grown bored of her own company.

She stopped at the door, suddenly unable to make herself grasp the doorknob. What if she just stayed in her room and did a puzzle? No use in letting her brain rot, she thought as she licked the tip of her pen and hurriedly searched for the newspaper. Suddenly a shadow crossed the wall to the side of her. She turned to it as her heartbeat quickened, but there was nobody there. Cats, she thought bemused at her own alarm. It must have been a stray cat casting an elongated shadow as it passed on the windowsill. They often came around, and she would sometimes feed them a hastily fetched, occasionally already half eaten, can of herring . Now was she going or not? She felt annoyed with herself. All that trouble to get ready, and now she was dawdling around. Of course she would go. The cats and the crosswords would still be here later, wouldn't they?

She turned resolutely and painfully forced herself to walk towards the door, grasp the knob, turn, pull, and step out, hastily shutting the door behind her. There, she told herself in relief. That wasn't so bad, was it?

Time runs slowly

Away from me

Always just out of my grasp

Time stalks me

And I run to escape it

We run dancing in circles

But only time will catch up with me

It's stealthy advance was far better than my race

Here war trembled

At the name

Of it that which

Would end the game

The clock struck

It's very last blow

And ended the war

So long ago


End file.
